The Chance: A Novel (18 page)

Nolan felt his heart stop, felt it skid into a beat he didn’t recognize. What was this? What . . . what was happening?

One of the officers stepped forward. He identified himself and looked at Nolan’s mother. “Are you Mrs. Cook?”

“Yes.” Panic rang in her voice. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“I’m sorry.” He paused, but he didn’t look at Nolan. Not once. “Your husband . . . he was found at the high school by
the janitor. I’m afraid he had a heart attack. He didn’t make it.”

“Not my dad!” Nolan couldn’t bear the possibility. “No, he didn’t. No!” Whatever came next, Nolan didn’t hear it. He ran past his mother, past the officers, running . . . running as fast as he could across the street and into the park. Through the trees to the place that belonged to him and Ellie. And there, with his back against the rough bark and his head in his hands, the sobs came. Deep sobs racked his body, and he let the truth fall down around him like deafening hail.

His father was gone.

The news was crazy . . . insane. Impossible. But it was true. There wouldn’t be another chance to see him or hug him or play basketball for him. In that place beneath the old oak tree, in that single moment, he stood at the greatest crossroads he’d ever known. God had taken Ellie, and now he’d taken his father—his two best friends in all the world.

When he couldn’t cry anymore, Nolan walked slowly back to his house, back to the place where the officers remained and where other cars were now parked along the curb and in the driveway. Before he reached the front door, Nolan realized something. He couldn’t give up on God. Like his father, his faith was woven through him. He couldn’t remove his beliefs any more than he could remove his DNA. Nolan stopped on the front porch. He was his father’s son and he would survive. He breathed in and faced the rest of his life. In a few seconds his entire future had been reduced to two purposes.

Playing basketball for his dad.

And finding Ellie.

Chapter
Seven

Spring 2013

N
olan Cook placed an extra pair of Nikes in his Atlanta Hawks bag and zipped it shut. He didn’t need to leave home for half an hour, enough time to clear his mind, maybe figure out why lately the past felt like a dark cloud he couldn’t step out from underneath. He sat on the edge of his bed and breathed in deep.
What is it, God? Why won’t yesterday leave me alone?

Sometimes Nolan wondered where the seasons had gone. One year had blended into two, and two somehow became a blurry decade. His life looked almost exactly as he had pictured it, how his dad had believed it would look. His Hawks were in the play-offs, and his role as leading scorer was one he had prepared for. He did what he could to help his community, and his faith still meant more to him than anything. Teams wanted to acquire him, kids wanted to be him, and girls wanted to marry him. After yesterday’s game, the ESPN announcer told the TV audience that Nolan was the only pro player he knew with a heart bigger than his bank account.

All of that was great. His father would be proud, for sure. But for all that Nolan Cook had obtained, and for all that people held him up as someone who had it all, he didn’t have what mattered most. He didn’t have his dad. And he hadn’t accomplished the only goal that really mattered.

He hadn’t found Ellie.

Twenty minutes remained before his ride would be there. The one that would take him to the airport, to a private jet for the trip to Milwaukee. It was May 3, first round of the play-offs. The Hawks had already taken the first two games at home. They could advance by winning the next two on the road. He sat down on the plush bench at the end of his bed and looked out the window. He never tired of the view, of the rolling green acreage that made up his estate. He lived in a remote gated community out of necessity. Too many people clamoring for him.

At first it seemed a little pretentious. Too much for a kid from Savannah. But he’d come to this place. He could be alone here and then, in thirty minutes, be suiting up at the Atlanta Hawks locker room. Where he spent most of his time.

You should be here, Dad. You and Ellie.

A sigh rattled through his body. His father had been gone nearly eleven years, and still he missed him every day, every time he picked up a basketball. The whole world knew the story. If anyone had missed it years back, ESPN had done a feature on Nolan last week, how he played to honor his dad, and how he never left a gym without making the shot.

Left side, three-point line.

He pulled his Bible from beneath the bench, where he’d left it the day before. Without hesitating, he turned to Philippians, chapter four. The place he and his dad were studying the week of his death. The text was familiar even back then. But he didn’t
want to rely on memory. He wanted to see the words. He started at the beginning of the chapter and read past the greeting from Paul and the admonition to rejoice always. At all times. Past the verses about God’s peace and right through to the thirteenth verse. “ ‘I can do all things though Christ, who strengthens me,’ ” he whispered.

It was a verse that had gotten him through the past decade, in moments when he was angry at God for all he’d lost and on days when he was ready to give up. Basketball had filled the empty spaces, and his faith had given him a purpose, but nothing had eased the pain of losing his dad. And nothing had helped him find Ellie Tucker.

He closed the Bible, stood, and crossed his room to the dresser with the mirrored hutch. Almost never did he allow himself a few moments to do this, but today seemed special. First time they’d made the play-offs since he’d been traded to the Hawks three years ago. He opened the narrow glass door and looked closely at the contents inside. A picture of him and his dad taken after they won the conference, weeks before the heart attack. The photo stood propped up, simple and without a frame. Slightly curled and yellowed around the edges. But Nolan kept it here, raw and untouched. The way he kept the image in his heart.

On the next shelf down was the stuffed rabbit. The one Ellie gave him the night before she left. He brought it to his face and breathed deep. Then he slowly walked to the window, the one that made up the far wall of the bedroom. He leaned his forearm against the glass and clenched the rabbit in his other fist. How could she still be missing from his life? With familiar ease he felt himself going back, slipping through the yesterdays to that spring.

Back to the days after his father’s death. He was just a kid back then, so much growing up still ahead of him. Weeks passed before Nolan stopped heading to the gym to find his dad when school let out. A lifetime of sheer habit didn’t break easily. Long after his dad’s funeral and the touching show of sympathy from the whole school, Nolan would wake up certain his dad was alive. Somewhere, he had to be alive. He would sit there in bed, desperate and confused, and picture his father in his study down the hall. He had to be there, dreaming up defenses and outlining plays in his old notebook. Or reading his worn, cracked leather Bible the way he did every morning.

Over time, Nolan came to realize he would spend the rest of his days fighting against God or fighting for Him. Finding his own way or holding tight to the faith he’d claimed the day police showed up at his house with the news. He wrestled with the choice, desperate for one more day with his dad. Desperate to find Ellie. In the end, there was no real choice at all. His father’s faith was his own. Period. He wouldn’t fight against the one true God, the One who held both his father and his precious Ellie. He would serve Him all the days of his life, no matter what. He made the vow the first summer after losing his dad. He had never wavered on his decision since.

But a reality hit him that summer. As soon as school was out, it came over him like a Georgia heat wave. He was the man of the house. His dad was gone and he wasn’t coming back, and his mother spent much of her time with his sisters. They were twelve and fourteen that summer, and they seemed to take most his mother’s emotional energy. When she couldn’t contain her tears another moment, she sometimes came to him. “Nolan, I’m turning in early. Can you get dinner for the
girls?” He would hug her and agree to help however he could. With his dad gone, he was man of the house.

He wasn’t about to let his mother see
him
cry.

When he was alone, he would sit beneath the old oak tree and think about his life, about what happened. And about how he could possibly find Ellie now that his father was gone. His dad had planned to help him find her that summer. Instead, all of them were trying to figure out a way to survive another day.

No letter from her ever came, something Nolan couldn’t understand. Again he tried finding her by calling the base, but the calls turned up nothing. No one could help him. Some mornings he would get on the family’s computer and search for her.
Ellie Tucker, Alan Tucker, San Diego, Camp Pendleton.
That sort of thing. The search never turned up anything. He even contacted Caroline Tucker. Ellie’s mother broke down and cried on the phone as she admitted that even she didn’t know where in San Diego Ellie lived.

“Her father’s keeping her from me. Or maybe Ellie doesn’t want me to know where she is.”

Finally, the reality sank in. Finding Ellie wouldn’t be as easy as his dad had thought. Short of getting in the car and driving to San Diego to look for her, Nolan was out of options. And when that became clear, he did the only thing he could do.

He played basketball.

His father was replaced by the assistant coach—Marty Ellison, an older man who loved Nolan’s dad and understood the team like no one else. He arranged summer workouts and talked about winning the championship, the one Nolan’s dad had believed in for them. Always, he was harder on Nolan than on the other guys.

One day Coach Ellison talked to him after practice. “Nolan . . . I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Nolan was exhausted, the way he usually was after morning workouts. He had the basketball tucked under his arm. “For pushing me harder than everyone else?”

“Yes. I have no choice.” Coach Ellison’s eyes held a tenderness that surprised Nolan. “Your dad believed in your gift. He used to tell me he could see you playing in the pros.” He put his hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “I’m doing what he would’ve done.”

“Yes, sir.” Nolan was grateful for the explanation. It filled him and gave him a purpose he hadn’t felt since losing his dad. Nolan shook the coach’s hand. “Well, sir, keep it up. If he’s watching from heaven, I don’t want to let him down.”

“Exactly.”

By the end of summer, Nolan was twice the basketball player he’d been the previous fall. He played on a club team and everywhere he went he created a stir among college scouts. When the students of Savannah High returned to class, two things had happened. First, Nolan had appeared on a
Sports Illustrated
list of top ten sophomore players in the country. And second, he had come to realize something about Ellie.

She wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t going to call and she wasn’t going to write. He would have to find her.

There were whole days that next year when all Nolan could think about was their one last chance, the letters buried beneath their old oak tree. Always he figured he’d find her somehow. But he never did. The years of high school flew by in a rush of basketball—club seasons, summer workouts, and high school games. They made the play-offs each year, but the team never qualified for the championship, never came as close as they had when he was a freshman. When his dad coached.

Winning a championship for his father became a goal he seemed unable to achieve. When the clock ran out on his last game as a senior, he found a quiet corner beneath the bleachers and cried. The first time since a month after his dad died, he let the tears come, because there were no more games left. The chance to win a state title for his father was gone.

That night he promised himself two things: Somehow he
would
find Ellie Tucker, and one day he
would
win it all. Maybe in college—since by then he had agreed to play on a scholarship at North Carolina University. Or maybe sometime after that. But one day he would have the perfect season and bring home a trophy for his dad.

The memories stopped there. Nolan returned the stuffed rabbit to the glass case and shut it. Better to keep thoughts of Ellie where they belonged—on a shelf where even he couldn’t touch them. He looked once more at the photo of him and his dad. How quickly the years had gone. The blur of seasons at North Carolina and the two appearances in the NCAA Elite Eight round of the play-offs.

“Maybe this year.” The words came softly. And in the silence that followed, he could hear his dad’s voice, the tone of it, and he could sense the safety he felt when they were together. The man had been his coach and mentor as far back as Nolan could remember. The fact that he was taken out by a heart attack when he was just forty-one remained almost impossible to believe. He still caught himself thinking maybe there had been a mistake and his dad had moved to Portland, Oregon, with his mom and sisters. As if sometime in the next hour, Nolan might get a call from him, promising to pray and believing—like always—that no one would dominate the game the way Nolan would.